


The Key to Christmas

by ndannais



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndannais/pseuds/ndannais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Finally getting around to archiving my stuff here. Hope you like it!</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Key to Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Finally getting around to archiving my stuff here. Hope you like it!

Napoleon glanced inside the room to find it unoccupied. That made four empty rooms so far, and he was fast running out of doors in the hallway. A fifth door yielded yet another dark room, and he began to pull the door shut when a sudden glint of light stopped him.

He stepped carefully into the room. There, in the widening light from the doorway, he could just make out the small figure of his partner. Illya was sitting in one of the soft chairs by the dark fireplace, still as a rock. His back was to the door, but his arm on the chair the only thing fully visible, the light from the door bouncing off his watch.

"I wondered where you'd gone," Napoleon said, closing the door behind him and cutting off the strains of "Deck the Halls" that had been intruding on the silence of the room. Without the music from the party below, the room was almost unnaturally quiet.

"Everyone knew where I'd gone." Illya's voice was low, as if he still wanted to remain undetected and alone, even as he answered.

Napoleon let his eyes adjust to the small amount of moonlight casting a dim glow on the room. "Everyone knows why you left," he corrected, finding Illya's chair. He pushed Illya's hand gently out of the way and perched on the arm of the chair. "But not where you were. I think they've all been too afraid of you to search you out all these years."

"Even the fearless Napoleon Solo?" The voice held a hint of amusement.

"Me most of all. I've got more experience with your temper than any of them."

"And yet you sought me out now."

Napoleon shrugged before he realized Illya most likely couldn't see the gesture. "I had thought perhaps this year would be different."

"Why?" When Napoleon hesitated, Illya offered the answer. "Because we are sleeping together? There are many things one can catch from sex, Napoleon, but I do not think a gregarious nature is one of them."

Napoleon laughed, his hand reaching out to trace the fine features of his partner's face, barely visible in the moonlight. "I know you're not crazy about crowds, Illyushka, but I'd rather spend the evening with you than anyone else, so I came looking for you." He hesitated again. "If you'd rather be alone..." he said, moving to stand, but a strong hand grasped his.

"Stay," Illya commanded softly. "I didn't say your company was unwelcome."

With a smile, Napoleon brought the hand that held his up to his lips and kissed it. "Glad to hear it," he said, settling in against the back of the chair. His free hand wandered across Illya's shoulder, to the nape of his neck, and into his hair. "So why do you come to this party if you hate it?"

"Because Waverly would never let me forget it if I did not."

"But he lets you hide in here half the night?"

Illya sighed as he leaned into Napoleon's caresses. "He expects me to conform, but he also knows my limitations."

"The mark of a good boss."

They sat in comfortable silence as Napoleon mapped out Illya's earlobe with his finger. It was only as the hand slipped down Illya's neck and chest and towards his lap that the blond spoke again. "Much more of this and we will be doing things I would prefer not to be caught in the middle of in Waverly's study."

"But no one ever looks for you at the party, remember?"

"Napoleon." 

"All right, all right." He shifted on the arm of the chair, reaching for a small box in his breast pocket. "How about I give you your Christmas present?"

"Here?" Illya blinked up at him, the crease between his eyes only just visible.

Placing the box in Illya's hand, Napoleon nodded. "This one might be handy tonight."

Illya pulled the ribbon off the box and opened it. He turned it over above his palm and a key fell into his hand, glinting in the moonlight. "This is to your apartment," he said, glancing up at his partner.

"Good eye."

A wry smile touched Illya's lips. "You know I could get in anytime with my master key?"

"So could any other U.N.C.L.E. agent in the building. This one," he said, caressing the key, then Illya's palm and wrist, with his finger, "is personal."

And tacit permission to come and go in Napoleon's apartment as Illya pleased. "But...what if there are times when you are...busy."

"I will never be doing anything you can't see. There, or anywhere else." He waited, watching Illya's mind work as it quickly arrived at the correct meaning.

"Napoleon...." Amazing how many different tones his name could take coming out of the Russian's mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Don't you think I've done enough looking around to know?"

Illya chuckled softly. "Yes, more than enough."

The possessive note underlying the words hit Napoleon in his core, igniting a fire. "You're right, you know," he said, sliding off the chair and to his feet. "We shouldn't be discovered here."

Illya pulled on the hand he'd been holding the whole time and stood. "Yes, I suppose it is time to be social."

"Or maybe we could just leave."

"If you were to leave this early, it would be noticed," Illya pointed out. "And remarked upon--even more so if you were to leave with me."

Napoleon pulled his partner towards the door, undeterred. "Fine. You leave now. After all, you've got the key."

He could almost feel Illya's smile in the darkness. "Yes, I do."

"I feel a sudden headache coming on," Napoleon said. "Must not be recovered from that blow I took in Mexico a couple of days ago. I predict I'll have to leave soon before it gets too bad."

Illya squeezed his hand as he pulled the door open. "I'll go first," he said. "See you at home in about half an hour?"

"Sooner."

"Napoleon."

"Okay, half an hour. But Illya?"

Illya stopped, leaning back towards his partner. "Yes?"

"I want to unwrap my present myself." He pulled on Illya's bow tie, making his meaning clear, and Illya smiled.

"Of course." After a quick kiss, he slipped out the door. Napoleon waited a few minutes before he followed. He made one more round of the party, smiling and chatting effortlessly, all the while plotting which piece of clothing he'd take off Illya first, what would come last, and how long it would take to make his partner beg.

After all, what good was a Christmas present if you didn't prolong the fun of opening it? 

\---  
END


End file.
